When The Winter's Day Is Dying
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Camille asks questions about winter and Christmas. She remembers the past and drinks hot chocolate and learns and learns, but she never gains all the answers.


_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing._

_**Author Note: **Title is a lyric from an old Christingle carol I used to sing in primary school that we always called 'Light A Candle In A Window.' Inspired by the many Camille fics I've read recently, I was reminded of why I love her character so :)_

* * *

**WHEN THE WINTER'S DAY IS DYING**

The chill in the air was biting. Camille spent a lot of time seeking out the temple's heat sources. Jarrod wrapped an arm around her without comment; she leaned into him, into his heat. He smiled a smile that was completely his. Camille closed her eyes, she trusted him that much.

As the end of the year drew closer, she listened as her fellow cubs talked about Christmas, about a strange mix of presents and trees and turkey. A few talked about church and carols. She listened and tried to make sense of it all. Jarrod explained a little, but his childhood memories of Christmas were unhappy enough to make his expression pinch. Camille reached out; the movement still a cautious question. But Jarrod leaned towards her, accepting her touch as he accepted no one else's, his expression softening slightly. A different kind of warmth stirred inside Camille.

"Christmas is a lot of things," Lily said as she brought Camille a hot chocolate. "It means something different to everybody."

She talked about the season's religious roots, about gift-giving and a large amount of special food. Camille turned each piece of information over in her mind, attempting to make sense of it, to fit the pieces together. When she'd visited Jungle Karma Pizza recently, RJ had been happy because Dom and Fran were coming home for Christmas. People seemed eager to gather together, to banish the cold perhaps?

Lily smiled. "That's a great way to put it."

Theo didn't look happy about the holiday however. "I haven't seen my parents in so long, and you've met my brother..."

Lily pressed a comforting hand to his shoulder and a silent conversation took place between them, it reminded Camille of how she and Jarrod looked at each other. It was a great comfort to know somebody who understood so much beyond words.

RJ didn't look happy about sharing Christmas with his father. Camille rarely interacted with Master Finn but she saw how RJ's expression became distant and unhappy around his father. It was unnerving. She told him so while huddling in front of his pizza oven. He didn't look offended as some people did when she stated her thoughts unguarded, but there was a shadow across his face.

"Family isn't always easy. They love us, but that's not always enough, you know?"

The question was not a question at all. Camille had discovered that, unlike most humans, RJ never expected her to offer information or revelatory stories. He always accepted who she was in that moment.

"Family isn't always blood either," RJ told her.

Camille nodded, thinking of how the former Rangers interacted. She thought of sitting beside Jarrod, their sides pressed together, or how when nightmares plagued him, he sought her out. She was warmed, a feeling not caused by the oven. RJ served her a flatbread pizza with the crispy bacon and bubbling cheese that she liked best.

Lukas, one of the cubs, talked about Hannukah and how his family lit candles and said ancient words. It stirred Camille's memories, of ceremonies held to welcome the winter and to ask for a drop more light. She remembered the smell of prey and predator, she remembered the welcome burn of Dai Shi's presence and how the ceremonies were snuffed out soon after. She had not missed them before, but the recent talk of Christmas combined with the cold snap of winter brought her close to such a feeling.

She asked Jarrod one night if he remembered, because despite Dai Shi's destruction, Jarrod retained memories not his own. They haunted his dreams. Jarrod nodded slowly.

"I remember the flame pits and the dancing." His expression turned into a tease meant just for her. "I remember that you didn't join in."

Camille smiled too, private and precious. She had never enjoyed the dancing so had often hidden away, honing her camouflage ability and wondering why people's eyes drifted over her whenever she was in plain sight. Dai Shi had been the first to truly see her.

Jarrod intertwined their fingers and offered her a hot chocolate. People had stopped offering her coffee; she disliked the taste of caffeine. Tea didn't appeal to her either, but she drank a lot of hot chocolate. She liked its warmth and taste. Theo was amused by how much she liked the drink, but Jarrod never teased her about it.

Camille watched as winter transformed the world, the trees and plants withering, awaiting the season that would wake them once more. She watched and remembered.

Sometimes Flit sat beside her, he was often unusually quiet, perhaps because he wasn't sure what to say. Camille found it difficult to find words for him too, but she enjoyed their silences.

Camille watched as many different Pai-Zhua techniques were unfolded and explained. She was the only student who embraced the Chameleon Spirit, just as Jarrod was the only one to call upon the Lion. She glanced at the liquid spread of scales across her own arms and legs, at how they could become pale pink flesh with just a thought. She was Camille, and she was Chameleon, just as Jarrod was Jarrod and the Lion and the lingering cobweb of Dai Shi. He suffered so much in nightmares for actions not his own. Camille didn't regret her own actions; they had brought her to Jarrod.

She listened to music that made no sense and to songs that made something tremble deep inside of her. Jarrod held her hand tight and never commented when her throat shook.

RJ told her about Yule, about the sacrifices and the blood and the theory of connection with the Wild Hunt. A pleasant shiver ran down Camille's spine and she dreamt of translucent horses and hunters, the blowing of a horn that called to her.

"What do you believe?" she asked RJ the next day.

He hummed thoughtfully, spinning pizza dough between his hands with ease. He nodded towards a hard log of wood sat on the countertop, as though it held the answer.

"I watch the sun rise on the Winter Solstice and I prepare a meal here, you and Jarrod are totally invited by the way. When it's not a fire hazard, I burn the Yule log."

"And you hunt."

RJ's smile was an echo of his Wolf Spirit and he didn't disagree.

* * *

Dom and Fran arrived in a flurry of sleet and startlingly bright cheer despite an overflow of stories about delayed flights and terrible taxi drivers. They gave out early Christmas presents; Camille didn't expect the small parcel wrapped in shiny green paper that was pressed into her hands. She unwrapped a black strip of soft material which Fran explained was a scarf, for keeping out the winter chill.

"Made it myself," Dom explained, his chin digging into Fran's shoulder and his eyes dancing.

Theo wanted to know when Dom had learned how to knit which led to Dom producing a pair of needles from his suitcase and a mass of blue wool. Camille saw weapons instead of craft tools and wondered at their art. The others had all received something hand-knitted as well, along with smaller gifts that Fran and Dom had gathered on their travels. Fran wore green parrot-shaped earrings and Camille saw more than a whisper of Bird Spirit in the girl's movements and manner. RJ met Camille's gaze without surprise.

Jarrod had been given a black scarf too.

Fran didn't visit the Pai-Zhua temple, but she took to her Bird Spirit comfortably and began practising with RJ and Dom regularly. She tried out different pizza recipes and offered them to Camille and Flit. She showed Camille how humans read the stars for navigation and romance and told stories about her travels with Dom and the Christmases of her childhood. There was a ring on Fran's finger that sparkled; it made everybody very happy.

Camille tried warm spiced wine and Christmas candy. She watched very confusing films, the needles that Dom had recently presented her with clicking together almost as quickly as his. Jarrod gave her a pair of black leather gloves; they were soft and welcoming and fit her well. Something moved deep in Camille's chest. She wore the gloves whenever she felt cold. Flit gave her a homemade Christmas card with only his name written inside. She looked at it for a long moment and afterwards handled it often, relearning its texture before she slept.

She dreamed of the Wild Hunt and more than once, she woke and left her bed to stare out of the window, searching, a glove clutched in her hand. She hoped that Jarrod searched too.

_-the end_


End file.
